


For My Hero, A Yellow Rose

by sadlonelyyogurt



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: 1940s, Angst, Boys In Love, Crying, Dunkirk Evacuation, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, It's not gay if he's dead, Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Gender Roles, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Depression, Sad, Sad Ending, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, World War II, and a lil gay, dunkirk more like funkirk amirite?, im just kidding thats the most horrible joke ive ever made, innaccurate depictions of hosptials and how they work, sad with a side of gay, this is literally just sad as shit thats all it is, through a letter but that still counts ok, was that too soon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlonelyyogurt/pseuds/sadlonelyyogurt
Summary: “They’ll call me a hero when I die, Tom. I’m a hero.”If Alex hadn’t been laid up in a hospital bed, his complexion as white as the sheets, Tommy would have told him not to let his head get too big. Now, he thought sorrowfully as Alex drifted once again into sleep, he’d probably never have the chance to say something so carefree to Alex again.orAlex is badly injured just before the war ends and Tommy has to come to terms with his feelings for him while simultaneously realizing he's going to have to let Alex go.
Relationships: Alex/Tommy (Dunkirk)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	For My Hero, A Yellow Rose

**Author's Note:**

> idk what compelled me to write this but just a warning it is hella sad. this whole thing is pretty much crafted of tears, mostly my own tears because it took me so fuckin long to write.
> 
> also if i got anything wrong like historically or medically or abt hosptials, pls don't come for me D: id love for u to tell me in the comments so i can fix it but ive never had anyone die in front of me and i have limited experience with hospitals (thankfully). I also did very minimal research for this fic so... yeah u history buffs out there might get triggered cuz idk what im doing.
> 
> ALSo i tried to make this British as possible but i am American so that may have failed

“We won, Alex,” Tommy said, hoping he could maybe take the scowl off Alex’s face. The war was over, technically speaking. There would be no more fighting and no more battles, and Tommy would get to go home to a soft bed and home cooked meals. The only thing was, there was so much damage done that still needed mending. Tommy had thought for some reason, stupidly, that after the war was over everything would go back to normal. All the horrible things that had happened would suddenly be fixed. 

Alex laughed bitterly. “Yeah, lot of good that does me.” 

Except that nothing of the sort had happened. And Tommy knew this because Alex was still laid up in bed, badly injured just a few days before Germany surrendered. And the worst part about it was that Alex wasn’t getting any better.

Tommy hadn’t been with Alex when he was hurt, he’d been on the other side of the Medditteranian. He told Alex he wished he’d been there with him, but Alex waved him off and said he was being stupid. If Tommy had been there, he’d have been hurt, too. Alex refused to talk about the attack anymore than that and Tommy didn’t push him, not wishing for him to have to relive the traumatic experience. Tommy certainly didn’t want to talk about his own experiences in the war.

“It’s not fair,” Alex said, as Tommy read aloud a newspaper to him. “Churchill gets praised for his strategy but who was out there fighting for him, huh? Us. Who took the hits while he sat behind a desk and treated us like pawns?”

“We did it for our country,” Tommy insisted, as he had many times before. But the more times he stood up for England, the more he began to question where his own loyalties lay. Of course, Nazi Germany was necassary to stop. He didn’t regret (most of) what the Allies had done to bring Hitler down, but it did feel rather unfair to be a soldier.

Alex only huffed angrily and crossed his good arm over his chest, clearly tired of having this arugment over and over. 

Tommy sighed and looked down at the paper in his hands. Alex had been in an especially foul mood ever since he’d been injured. Tommy supposed he couldn’t really blame him- if, no _when_ Alex recovered, he’d never walk properly again, among other things. Had Tommy been in the same position, he would have been in bad spirits, too.

“Sorry for being such an arse,” Alex said, bringing Tommy out of thoughts, his expression much more humble than it had been only moments ago. “It’s not fair to you.” 

Alex would occasionally get like that- wistful, sad and honest out of nowhere. He was usually completely unapologetic, carrying himself with a sense of confidence and gives-no-fucks attitude. But Tommy knew Alex well enough to see through his act. And Alex trusted Tommy well enough to sometimes let his guard down.

“It’s alright,” Tommy replied gently. “This sucks ass.”

Alex smirked at that, and Tommy couldn’t help but smile, too. Alex rarely smiled, and much less laughed. 

“Yeah, mate.”

“I wish there was something I could do to make it better.”

Alex moved his hand to rest on top of Tommy’s, and Tommy couldn’t help but blush at the gesture. “You’re here, aren’t you? That makes it a thousand times better.”

Tommy lay awake that night, his thoughts swirling around in his head like a whirlpool. 

_Shut up_ , he told his brain. His brain did nothing of the sort. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about his earlier exchange with Alex, how he’d suddenly felt lightheaded and flush when Alex had looked at him like that, had placed his hand over Tommy’s.

Of course, Tommy had known for a long time that what he felt for Alex was not exactly simple. He’d known since he was very young, after a few slip ups throughout his childhood, that there were some things he should keep to himself. He went through their friendship in his mind, analyzing it again and again, trying to find where he’d first felt like this about _Alex_ of all people. Alex was his friend, his war buddy and someone he trusted very much. But most importantly was the fact that Alex was _dying_ , even if Tommy would only admit it to himself at this time of night. Tommy had known Alex for five years, and he could only help but wonder why oh why these feelings had only started surfacing now.

And anyways, Alex liked girls. Tommy knew this. Alex had never had any sort of serious relationship when Tommy had known him, but there was a girl, Isabella, whom Alex had told him about a few times, usually under the influence of some sort of intoxication.

_“She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, Tom. She’s like- like some kind of goddess or something. I love her, I think. And she loves me, too.”_

It had taken Tommy a while to figure out that Isabella had actually passed away several years prior to the war. There were things about Alex’s past Tommy still didn’t know, but he knew it was dark, and rather a sob story. Alex never talked about it when he was in his right mind. But whoever Isabella had been, Alex never again found anyone quite like her. And he stayed far away from any girls with green eyes. 

Tommy, upon Alex’s request, had become Alex’s main contact. Alex had explained to the nurse that he didn’t have any family and Tommy was his only friend in the area.

“You mean you don’t have a girlfriend who’ll come visit you?” The nurse had said. “You seem like you’d have a pretty girl to keep you company.” It was said in a somewhat joking tone, or possibly flirty, Tommy couldn’t tell, but he thought it was a pretty unprofessional thing to ask a patient.

Alex swallowed uncomfortably and glanced in Tommy’s direction, although what the look was supposed to convey Tommy had no idea.

“No, no girl,” Alex said hastily. The nurse just eyed them both curiously before nodding and writing Tommy’s number in the emergency contact. 

Tommy hadn’t really understood what it meant to be someone’s emergency contact before he was stopped at the front desk while checking in a few days later.

“You’re Tommy, correct?” The woman there said. Tommy just nodded. “The doctor would like to see you about Alex’s condition.”

“What, me?” Tommy asked, even though there was no one else she could have been talking to.

“You are his emergency contact, yes?”

“Well… well yeah, but- why does he wanna talk to me?”

“Because you’re Alex’s emergency contact and the doctor would like to speak with you regarding your friend’s condition,” the nurse said patiently, like she’d had similar conversations countless times before. She probably had, Tommy thought, suddenly feeling stupid. 

“Okay,” he said intelligently. 

The nurse smiled sweetly, though her gaze felt somewhat pitying, before she reached for the phone next to her and made a quick call. After hanging up she said “He’ll be with you in a minute,” and busied herself with work at the desk. 

Tommy drifted over to one of the chairs at the far end of the room, nervous about what the doctor could want to talk to him about. It was just as he sat down that a masculine voice called his name from the other side of the room and he was up again, though this time with purpose. In the hospital it seemed as though one either had to wait an excruciatingly long amount of time or practically imperceptible amount of time for something to happen. There was no in between.

“You’re Tommy?” Asked the doctor gruffly, holding a clipboard and looking rather intimidating. 

“Uh, yeah.”

The doctor introduced himself and asked Tommy if he’d like to walk in the direction of Alex’s room while they talked. Tommy just nodded, as he did with everything else the doctor said.

“Talkative sort, aren’t you?”

Tommy swallowed nervously. “Uh, sorry,” he mumbled, not sure if he was supposed to have some kind of excuse. 

“No bother. As you probably know I’m here to talk with you about Alex’s condition.”

“Uh-huh.”

The doctor sighed. “I was expecting a stable recovery, as Alex is young and relatively healthy. Although, we have found some evidence of a drinking habit…” he looked over at Tommy expectantly.

“Uh…” Tommy said, not sure what to say when put on the spot, “Well, he has turned to alcohol for, um, certain things in the past,” he explained, feeling as though it wasn't really his place to explain to the doctor how dark Alex's mind could be, and how the darkness drove him to do other things.

The doctor simply shook his head in what Tommy guessed was disappointment. “I’ll be frank with you, Tom- is it alright if I call you Tom? Things aren’t going as well as I’d hoped. His condition doesn’t appear to be getting any better and, well, to put it simply, it’s not looking good.”

Tommy wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean, but he kept quiet and nodded along anyway. 

“It may be best,” the doctor continued, lowering his voice as they reached Alex’s room, “That you say your goodbyes while you still can.” He put a rough hand on Tommy’s shoulder before thanking him for his time and making his way down the other end of the hall. Tommy stood outside Alex’s room a few moments more, his feet feeling heavier than they had a few moments ago, before turning the door handle and trying not to think too much on what the doctor had said.

“Do you want me to bring you something?”

“What’d you mean? Like chocolate? Please bring me chocolate. The food here’s shit.”

Tommy sighed and shook his head, though he smiled fondly. “I meant something to make this a little less boring for you. Like a book, maybe.”

Alex’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Not a bloody book. I’d rather eat the canned peas here than read a book.”

“Fine,” Tommy said, raising his hands in surrender. “No book. But are you sure there’s nothing you want?”

Alex contemplated this for a moment before nodding slowly. “This might sound dumb but, uh… do you think maybe you could bring some yellow roses?”

Yellow roses were Alex’s favorite flower. Tommy had bought him one once to cheer him up because there was a time when both their mental health was taking a turn for the worse. Alex had been absolutely delighted at the gift, and then somewhat embarrassed about it. Tommy had assured him that liking flowers was nothing to be ashamed about.

“I’ll get you some tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

Tommy paused for a minute, not wanting Alex to close himself off like he often would when someone offered a helping hand before saying, “Alex, if you ever need anything you shouldn’t be afraid to ask.” Alex had a difficult time asking for or accepting help, even when he desperately needed it. When Tommy first met Alex he thought it had something to do with pride, but he knew better now. It was more of a trust issue than anything else.

It had taken Tommy a long time to get Alex to talk to him, and an even longer time for Alex to finally accept comfort and support. Tommy had started trying the hardest when he accidentally discovered the razor blade tucked carefully under the book Alex never read. He somehow hadn’t noticed the cuts on Alex’s arms for what they were until he came upon that piece of evidence. He found through trial and error that Alex, however apparently opposed he was to it, craved touch and attention. And Tommy was happy to give him that, especially since being so close to Alex had made him feel a little warmer and better, too. 

“‘M not afraid,” Alex replied, crossing his arms and scowling. Tommy realized he should have worded his statement differently. Alex was _also_ easily offended, especially when it came to things like his masculinity.

“I just mean… you can tell me anything, mate. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Alex mumbled, but Tommy was relatively certain Alex appreciated it regardless of his dismissive words. He only liked to get sappy when he was drunk, and despite the drugs the hospital was pumping him full of, Alex was far from drunk.

“I met you five years ago,” Alex said out of the blue. “On Dunkirk.” It was, first of all, an obvious statement that both of them were well aware of. But Alex also hated talking about Dunkirk. Tommy had to rethink his previous assumption that Alex wasn’t the least bit intoxicated.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, for lack of anything more conversational. Alex just kept talking. 

“Feels like a long time ago now, don’t it? But also like it was only yesterday.”

Tommy sighed and took Alex’s hand. If he was being honest, he really didn’t want to think about Dunkirk or the war in general. But Alex talking so readily about his feelings was something Tommy had been trying to get him to do for most of their friendship, so he sat and listened.

“I wish we never got drafted in that damn war,” Alex said bitterly. But then his face softened. “But if we hadn’t, I never would’ve met you. And I think that’d be worse than dying.”

“You’re _not_ gonna die.”

“But what if we’d met some other way?” Alex went on, either ignoring Tommy or having not heard him at all, “England isn’t so big a country. Just imagine it. No war, no Nazis. We meet each other in some little coffee shop and we have a cup of tea together. And you could live up in my flat-”

That was where it became a bit too much for Tommy, so he spoke a little louder than necessary. It was as if Alex had known exactly what he’d fantasized himself before. 

“You’re talking crazy, mate. You’re right high off these meds.”

Alex fell silent and gazed up at Tommy through half lidded eyes, looking both full of innocence and like he’d seen every horror known to man. And Tommy didn’t know what came over him, but the room suddenly felt much too small and he fled as fast as he could, despite Alex’s call of surprise. He ran all the way to the first floor bathroom where he vomited until his stomach was empty and cried until he had no tears left. 

_Alex is gonna be okay_ , he kept chanting in his head, _and I am not in love with him_ . But he wasn’t really sure he believed himself at _all_. 

“It’s funny, isn’t it, how I was about ready to kill myself just a few months ago, and now that I’m on my death bed I’m scared shitless?” Alex smirked when he said it, like it was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Tommy knew that under his facade, he really was terrified.

“You aren’t gonna die, Lex,” Tommy assured him, hoping he sounded more convinced than he actually felt. He was still holding out hope. He may have been an optimist at heart, but Alex seemed to look worse every minute, and with what the doctor had said Tommy could only trick himself so long. He wasn’t stupid, either. People succumbed to ailments far less serious than Alex’s, even under extensive hospital care.

“You remember Gibson?” Alex asked unexpectedly, causing Tommy, who’d averted his eyes, to look up at him in surprise. 

“What?”

“Gibson,” Alex repeated. “That French deserter who tried to escape with us during the evacuation.” He looked up at Tommy through long eyelashes, his eyes expectant. Of course Tommy remembered Gibson, he just didn’t understand why Alex would be bringing him up now.

“I remember him,” Tommy said. “How come?”

Alex looked away from him, towards the light streaming through the window. “I just wonder if he made it out, is all.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I think he got stuck, trapped in that boat. I could have gone back to help him, but I didn’t.” There was guilt behind his statement, or remorse.

“We all did things we wish we hadn’t on that beach,” Tommy said.

“I can still see his face,” Alex murmured, and Tommy thought he might be falling back asleep. “It’s almost poetic, isn’t it, how he deserted his own country just to try and catch a ride with us only to die anyway? And not even a warrior's death. He’d have been better off staying with his own kind. At least then they might have called him a hero.”

There was another beat of silence in which Tommy debated leaving before Alex said, barely a whisper: “They’ll call me a hero when I die, Tom. I’m a hero.”

If Alex hadn’t been laid up in a hospital bed, his complexion as white as the sheets, Tommy would have told him not to let his head get too big. Now, he thought sorrowfully as Alex drifted once again into sleep, he’d probably never have the chance to say something so carefree to Alex again.

He was just about to get into bed when he got the call. Alex wasn’t expected to make it to morning. If Tommy wanted to say his goodbyes, the phone operator had said, he’d best get to the hospital quick as he could. Tommy barely hung up the phone before grabbing his coat and heading out, not even bothering to exchange his slippers for a pair of loafers or at least put on a decent shirt. He could only think of how Alex was dying. 

Alex was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Upon reaching the hospital, he planned to go directly inside and talk to Alex immediately, feeling nothing but a resigned sort of determination as he marched up the front steps. However, as soon as the door to Alex’s room became visible, he found himself overcome with nerves. 

There was some part of him thoroughly convinced that if he _didn’t_ enter the room, none of it would be real. Alex would keep breathing, still alive and well, still offering a rare smile or slinging his arm over Tommy’s shoulder in a way that made Tommy’s heart go wild. The rational, sensible side of him knew all of that was utterly ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it as his mind tricked him into some kind of delusional world, this one excluding the war altogether and giving Alex and Tommy the chance to live out the rest of their lives together without judgement from the rest of society, just like Alex had been going on about a few days ago. He stopped next to the door and leaned against the wall, allowing himself to indulge in these thoughts for a few moments longer, hoping maybe it would ease him some of the pain. In the end it only made things worse, but Tommy’s patience with himself was wearing thin. He stood from the wall and leaned towards the door, taking a few deep breaths to calm his mind.

 _This is it_ , he thought, closing his eyes against the harsh white walls and bright lights. _Make it count_.

And he opened the door.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. The room looked exactly the same as it had all the other times Tommy had been in it, save for the nurse who was checking over a clipboard next to Alex’s bed, a deep frown set into her face. She glanced up when Tommy entered the room and set the clipboard down, her heels clicking against the hard floor as she passed by him on her way out. She offered him a sympathetic smile which was probably supposed to be reassuring, and then she was gone.

Tommy took a few cautious steps towards the chair next to Alex’s bed, taking off his hat and cradling it close to his chest. “Alex?”

Alex turned his head to face Tommy, his movements slow and jerky, like he was still processing that he’d been spoken to. Like he wasn’t fully in control of his own body. The thought made Tommy feel sick.

“How’re you doing?” Tommy asked with lack of anything better to say, hoping maybe they could strike up some sort of a conversation, that they could be some semblance of normal. He realized right after he said it that it was probably the stupidest thing he could have said. 

Alex stared at him as if he were searching Tommy’s soul, his green eyes seeming impossibly huge in his pale, sunken face. “I’m gonna die, Tom,” he said. 

“Alex…”

“Don’t tell me I’m not,” Alex croaked, coughing slightly as he did so. “The hospital people won’t tell me what’s going on but you’re here now and it’s past visiting hours.” 

Tommy, who couldn’t bear to look at Alex’s face any longer, reached for Alex’s hand and took it in his own, focusing instead on the rough calluses, protruding knuckles, a strange scar near his thumb.

“I don’t want you to die,” Tommy found himself saying without really meaning to. It was probably exactly the kind of thing you weren’t supposed to say to a dying person, but Tommy couldn’t help himself. If Alex was gone, he’d be all alone again.

“I don’t want me to die, either,” Alex replied, trying for a smile even though it looked more like a wince. Tommy did his best to smile back. “I don’t-” Alex coughed “-don’t wanna leave you, Tom. ‘M not ready.”

There were tears stinging at the back of Tommy’s eyes, and he didn’t know how to make them stop. Out of the two of them, Alex had always been the crier, and Tommy wasn’t sure he’d ever cried in front of Alex when Alex wasn’t crying as well. But Alex’s eyes seemed dry as ever, despite his dismal words and pleading expression. Not knowing where to look, he glanced over at the yellow roses by Alex’s bedside.

Tommy knew then that God wasn’t real. Or at least, whatever higher power the guy believed himself to be, he didn’t care at all about Tommy or Alex or anyone else as small as them. He knew then that everything his mother had ever taught him about religion and faith must be a lie, for Alex was being taken from him. Alex, who was far from perfect but still barely a man. He was far better than many people Tommy knew, and yet their lives were being spared.

He could almost hear his mother going on about God’s “greater purpose” and whatnot. Tommy didn’t care. He only had to look at the dying boy in front of him to know that all of it, _all_ _of_ _it_ was utter bullshit.

“You’re gonna be alright, mate,” Tommy said, rubbing small circles into Alex’s hand with his thumb. Though whether he said it for Alex or himself he wasn’t quite sure.

“You think I’ll go to heaven?” Alex murmured, startling Tommy with the relevance to his own previous thoughts.

“Yeah, Lex. You’ll go to heaven.”

Alex sighed, a happy sound that didn’t quite fit with the otherwise somber scene. “I’ll get to see my mum.” There was a beat of silence before he met Tommy’s eyes, face open and unguarded in a way Tommy had never seen it before. “You’ll meet me there?”

“Uh-huh,” Tommy assured him, choking on his words as he lost the battle keeping his tears at bay. “Soon enough, I’ll be right up there with you.”

Alex let out a small puff of air, the subtlest of laughs. “Hopefully not too soon.”

He seemed content at that, focusing his attention on Tommy’s hand over his. His fingers twitched ever so slightly and Tommy realized he was trying to reciprocate Tommy’s affection.

Tommy picked up Alex’s hand from off the bed and squeezed it gently. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Alex only nodded, seeming suddenly beyond tired. Something in Tommy’s stomach clenched at the realization that their time together was coming to a close.

“I love you, Alex,” he whispered, almost a little too quickly, though he figured it couldn’t hurt now. He only hoped Alex either wouldn’t understand the meaning of his words or at least wouldn’t think too ill of him in his last moments.

Alex’s eyes widened slightly at the statement and then softened, his fingers pressing against Tommy’s palm with an almost imperceptible amount of pressure before going slack again. Each breath Alex took was slow and seemed like a strenuous task. Tommy’s mind hung on each one, each small rise and fall of his chest, counting as they got slower and slower as Alex’s eyes slid shut and then, without much warning, Alex grew still.

Tommy didn’t realize he was holding his own breath as he waited desperately for Alex to breathe in another puff of air, but as the seconds ticked by it became clear Alex wasn’t going to do anything of the sort. That he was really and truly, dead. 

Tommy let out a low, tortured wail, a sound he hadn’t known he was able to make. At least a minute passed as he sat like that, holding Alex’s cold hand and crying silently on the bedsheets, telling himself over and over that it wasn’t real, it was a dream, just another cold, horrific nightmare.

But Alex did not stir and Tommy didn’t wake, and as reality began to set in Tommy came back to his senses. There was nothing he could have done, he reasoned, while still another part of his mind insisted that all of this was his fault. Whatever the case, he couldn’t help the sudden urge that came over him so he leaned forward and placed a brief, gentle kiss to Alex’s forehead, wishing regretfully he’d had the courage to do so when Alex could have felt it.

Tommy wasn’t sure how long he sat there, wasn’t even sure when he moved to sit on the bed instead of the chair, when he started stroking Alex’s hair, when his crying grew to the point where it was audible, and could be heard from the hallway. And the crying didn’t seem to stop, or slow down. 

A nurse was at Tommy’s side suddenly, and there was another unforseen voice behind him. The nurse placed her hand cautiously on Tommy’s shoulder, and even though he felt himself stiffen at the unsolicited gesture he appreciated the small comfort nonetheless. 

There were more hushed voices behind him which Tommy had neither the energy nor the care to pay attention to. However, it was impossible to miss the doctor who carefully examined Alex’s body before announcing in a low voice: “Time of death, 11:49 pm.”

The woman at the front desk gave Tommy a box of Alex’s things the next day. The hospital had offered for him to collect the things from the room himself, but he declined. It was too much.

“The nurse assigned to him says there’s a letter in there he wanted to give you. He told her to tell you, I figure,” the woman said as she handed him the box. Tommy could see from the practiced way she acted around him that she’d done this many times before. He wondered what kind of heart a person had to have to work in a job like hers. “I’m sorry for your loss, son.”

Either it was one of ice, or one of gold.

He took the box out to his bike and planned to get home as fast as possible for fear he’d break down in tears if he stayed near that damn building any longer, but the letter apparently sitting just within the box intrigued him. He wondered why Alex couldn’t have said all he wanted to out loud. 

Of course, there were things Tommy had left unsaid, but that was different.

There was an envelope on the top of the meager collection of other items in the box. As promised, it was addressed to him. He unsealed it and began to read.

_Tommy,_

_I’ll probably never send this letter, but if I ever find the courage you’re to burn it as soon as you read it. You know what would happen if anyone ever found it._

_The truth is, I love you. When I’m with you I feel differently than I’ve ever felt around anyone before, even Isabella. I think I might have loved you since the very moment I met you, on that beach in Dunkirk. Whatever the case, it’s been pent up inside me far too long. I was too cowardly to ever tell you in person, but we both know you were always the brave one out of the two of us._

_Maybe it’s you who’ll tell everyone, but I pray you won’t. I trust you not to do that to me, because I know you’re a person of good intentions even if you don’t feel the same of me as I do of you. Don’t send anything back, but meet me at the station in London. Homosexuality is legal in France. I know you’re probably confused, but I hope you’ll come. Please don’t leave me waiting._

_With Love,_

_Alex_

And then, another few sentences had been written, clearly at a later date, in sloppier handwriting but still legible.

_P.S. I’m writing this now in the hospital. I think I’ll be gone soon. There’s no need to grieve at my passing, but I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if you shed a few tears. I hope you find this letter, though I’ll never get to take you to France._

_P.P.S. I love you._

Tommy’s tears mixed with the ink of the page as he tried unsuccessfully to contain himself from breaking down in front of the hospital. Alex had loved him all along and Tommy had been too blind to see?

And, well, Tommy had loved Alex, too, but apparently that also went unnoticed. What a couple of dumbasses they were.

Or just one dumbass now, Tommy supposed.

The thought, however morbid, spurred him into action. He folded up the letter neatly and placed it in his pocket, grabbed the box of Alex’s things from the ground and took off on his bike. He hardly even noticed he was still crying. 

There were still so many things Tommy wanted to tell him, so many things the both of them had never said. Tommy had convinced himself that Alex would be fine, that the two of them would have more time together right up until they didn’t. And by then it was too late.

His regret, he knew, would follow him for the rest of his life. But for now he pedaled towards the flower shop just down the street, a yellow rose the only thing of interest in his mind. 

Alex was Tommy’s hero, and Tommy planned to never forget it. So, yellow roses it was.


End file.
